


Truly Great Knickers

by Sculpts



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Genderfluid Sherlock, Lingerie, POV John Watson, is this fluff i don't know???, it's cute so it counts, sort of???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1833415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sculpts/pseuds/Sculpts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More often than not, it seems like a thankless task helping Sherlock pick out lingerie. Thankfully for them both, John knows better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truly Great Knickers

Over the years, John’s spent rather a lot of time in lingerie departments. Whether it’s more or less time than most men his age he can’t say, but in that time he’s covered most of the staples: the teenaged “oh no I’m not ogling at the bras I’m just passing through” department store jaunts. The early to mid twenties “buying lingerie as a gift for the girlfriend you’ve only been going out with a month because it’s valentines day and that’s a fun and original way to suggest you might want sex, right?” decision making processes - thrice. The older-and-wiser “sitting on a stool outside the changing rooms while your girlfriend tries on multiple sets of underwear, looking overly invested in your hands when anybody comes within eyeshot” fiasco. During this time, sometimes discreetly and sometimes with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, John’s developed something of an expertise in lingerie.

Which is why, after the first few halting miscommunications (twice including Sherlock’s assumption that John didn’t _get it_ , only once correct, and once centering around a decision of Sherlock’s that since John was obviously too uncomfortable to continue they may as well just go home— in fact, the reason why John had stopped to tie his shoelace was because his shoelace had come undone and not as some cue to signal whatever intense unspoken discomfort Sherlock had apparently found in his few second fumble to re-tie it), it’s really been no skin off John’s back giving Sherlock his thoughts.

“Sherlock?”

“Mm?”

“This one’s nice.”

“Mm.”

More often than not, it’s a thankless task on the face of it. John knows better. 

 

 

“John.”

The voice is a shift outside of the hazel rich gravel he’d been greeted with that first day all those years ago. It’s somehow both lighter and more full, differently textured, less rolling flames and more the soft rumble of a distant storm (and if he ever wrote that down there’d be rolling eyes and dramatic sighs so he keeps it in his head, ready to transfer to a notebook if he ever gets that far, because his poetry isn’t as awful as you like to think thanks very much and maybe one day I’ll send _you_ an email and maybe on that day you won’t bloody laugh). John’s lips hitch in a fond smile.

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

He does. He does as he’s told (always, _always_ \- there is not a day he won’t come when called in the name of Sherlock Holmes), sets his mug down on the carpet by the foot of his armchair and pulls himself to his feet to walk the short distance to Sherlock’s room. Inside, what he finds is exactly what he expects to - which doesn’t do a thing to stop how it has his breath catch in his throat.

“And?” Sherlock asks, expectant, staring at him with a ‘well?’ that doesn’t need voicing.

And. _And_. And, as always, as ever, whether wrapped in that great hulking coat with your collar up to your cheekbones and face set in its “look at me I’m cool” pout or clad like now in nothing but the soft pink lace that I knew, I _knew_ would sit just perfectly against your never-seen-the-sun skin, lips plush with peach gloss and artfully soft eyes fierce as ever and if you ever stop looking at me like that I’ll know it’s over and I’ll try my best to bow out gracefully but I’ll probably break something before I go and I’ll never be the same again— you’re _beautiful_.

“Nice choice.” John replies.

“I thought so.”

John slumps against the door frame, glowing with pride, and not only because he went and suggested the most perfect pair of knickers he’s seen on anyone in his forty three years of life and Sherlock’s grateful for it. Sherlock scoffs at him over a shoulder and turns away to fuss with the bags sitting on the end of the bed (fluid grace and alabaster flesh and the criss cross of aging scars all highlighted by a faint flush and, god, _god_ , just so magnificent), not bothering to look at John again when that storm cloud velvet slips out to hum in the air between them, this time announcing -

“I’ve got others to try. You might want to close the door if you’re still concerned with that _public decency_ thing.”

Partly, he complies because Mrs Hudson has seen more than her fair share of sights during their time in 221B without adding an eyeful of naked Sherlock to the list. Mostly, though, it’s because John is fully cognizant of the not-expressly-spoken-but-still-loudly-extended invitation for him to stay and share his opinions on the rest of the things waiting in those bags. The necklace curled up in his front jeans pocket, waiting to be gifted (and when better to do it than to fasten it around a neck while Sherlock's preening in the mirror as a surprise finishing touch to a carefully pieced together outfit? (Yeah, alright, he’s a hopeless, romantic idiot, sue him) (… Christ, Sherlock better have bought something that’ll go with this)), seals the deal. The doorframe is abandoned. The flat sinks into comfortable quiet as the soft _tmph_ of the closing door shuts the two of them inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [gaydeductions](gaydeductions.tumblr.com) headcanon prompt: "John always helps Sherlock pick lingerie." 
> 
> I'm not closely familiar with genderfluidity (I will now strive to educate myself this is my mission) and wasn't sure what pronouns it was best to use for Sherlock so I just sort of.... didn't.... use pronouns asldjkskj I'm really sorry if that offends anybody! I'll do better next time I promise.


End file.
